Just back of the big policeman was a little dog, and just back of the little dog was a little dog-house, and just back of the dog-house was a beautiful Christmas tree.
Wouldn’t it have made you stop in surprise to see a dog-house in the middle of the busiest street in your city or town? Wouldn’t you have wondered why the big policeman had the little dog, and why the little dog had such a nice house there? And wouldn’t you have wondered and wondered whether the Christmas tree belonged to the dog or to the big policeman? It made me so curious that I did just as you would have liked to do—I asked the policeman to tell me the story.
II. The Policeman’s Story
“Good morning, Mr. Burke,” I said, for I knew the officer’s name. “Will you tell me about the little dog?”
“Why,” answered the policeman with a smile, “don’t you know about Cheesey? Come here, Cheesey, the lady wants to see you!”
Cheesey looked up at the speaker and wagged his tail.
“Cheesey was born on Race Street pier,” went on the policeman. “Nobody knows how he got his living after his mother died; but one thing is sure, he was not treated very kindly by the men who loaded the boats and swept the wharves. To this day Cheesey growls at the sight of one of those men.
“After a while Cheesey found a little playmate, but the playmate was run over by a fire engine. All night long Cheesey lay in the spot where his little mate had been killed.